


Summer Hot, Summer Holiday

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always a girl, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-04
Updated: 2010-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't take long before Pete realizes Mikey's a girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Hot, Summer Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks [and apologies] to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[**inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) for beta. Based on comments and written for [](http://harborshore.livejournal.com/profile)[**harborshore**](http://harborshore.livejournal.com/).

  
Mikey doesn’t say much. That’s the first thing Pete notices about her, because she’s pretty much the exact opposite of him. They both have dark hair and wear a lot of black, and that’s where the similarities end. Pete, for all his manic energy, notices people, and even though she hangs back and speaks pretty much exclusively with her hyper-expressive eyebrows, even though the only way he knows she’s not actually attached to her brother is that they stand four feet apart on the stage, he notices her. Except he doesn’t actually notice she _is_ a her.

He _knows_ she’s a girl. It’s not like anyone in My Chem is hiding the fact, but Mikey’s different from all the other girls on Warped. But it’s not until they’re about two weeks into the tour that he’s actually _convinced_ she’s a girl. Two weeks in, he walks past the My Chem bus just as Mikey stumbles out of the door that slams shut behind her. She’s dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of gray panties, and she’s cursing Iero like a sailor.

“What the fuck are you staring at?”

Pete thinks the answer is obvious, but he manages to blurt out, “You.”

“No shit, asshole.” Her voice is husky, raw with lack of sleep, but the rest of her is all smooth lines and angles. “This isn’t a fucking peepshow. Give me your hoodie.”

Pete does, not even caring that he doesn’t have anything on underneath it. She wraps it around her waist, more apron than skirt, but it works to cover most everything, the hood between her legs.

“I’m going to fucking _kill_ Iero.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“Me and _Frank_?”

Pete can’t tell if she’s amused, horrified or offended. “Um.”

“He’s in my _band_.” She gives Pete the most disdainful look he’s ever received and he has to fight the urge to apologize. “Are you and Patrick fucking?”

“Um. Wait. What? No!”

“And yet you think you can assume that about me and Frank?”

“Well, but…”

“But what?”

Pete’s never been good at warning signs. “You’re a girl.”

Mikey punches him hard across the jaw and Pete sprawls on the ground, looking up at her. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah. And you’re a dick.”

**

Pete shows up with a peace offering three days later, a box of comics he’s pretty sure Andy won’t miss. Mikey gives him a look when she opens the door, but he holds up the top title in the box and she relents. “I’ll take the box.”

“Do I get to come in?”

“No.” She looks at him solemnly, nothing changing in her expression, but Pete’s pretty sure she’s amused. “But I’ll come out. Give me five.” She disappears into the bus, taking the box with her. He watches her go, her hips not giving anything away at all.

She comes back almost exactly five minutes later, tugging a hoodie – Pete’s hoodie – on over her Misfits t-shirt. They start walking without any real destination in mind, just away from the buses. There’s a field just beyond the asphalt, tall grasses and wildflowers in a riot of colors. They walk through it toward the chain link fence and Pete watches Mikey as she surveys the terrain. He thinks he can read her face, but it’s hard to be sure.

“If there was classical music playing, I’d think we walked into a douche commercial.” She looks at Pete seriously. “I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet.”

Pete just nods and heads back to the buses, smiling to himself. They’re in a relationship.

**

Pete starts hanging out with Mikey and Frank starts calling Pete Mikey’s lap dog. Mikey starts telling Frank to shut up and Pete starts punching Frank whenever he sees him which, given that he and Mikey are kind of inseparable, is a lot.

Mikey ignores most of her band, even her brother, which earns Pete a lot of strange looks and, much to his unhappiness, a private meeting with Gerard one night after a set. He comes off the stage, hot and sweaty and completely alive until he runs into the pale, sweaty, smelly mess that is Gerard Way.

“We need to talk.” Gerard is smoking, sucking down nicotine like it’s his life’s blood. Pete knows that’s not the case – when it comes to the Ways, life’s blood is coffee, preferably by the IV. “It’s important.”

Pete hands his bass off to Dirty and glances at Patrick who is too busy laughing to notice. “Um. Sure?”

Gerard walks a few steps away then turns, wreathed in gray smoke. “So. Mikey’s my little sister.”

“I know?”

“She always has been. You know, like, family.”

“Not really _like_ family,” Pete informs him. “Actually family.”

“Yeah. That.” Gerard kills his cigarette, sucking it down to the filter before grinding it into the pavement in a massacre of yellow fluff and shredded paper. “So, she’s my little sister. And you’re, you know, spending a lot of time with her.”

“Yeah.” Pete agrees, not actually sure what Gerard wants him to say or do. “I am.”

“Okay. Good. I mean, good that we understand each other. Not good that you’re spending time with her. I’m…I mean, it’s not not-good. It’s just not what I’m talking about. Though it is.”

Pete cuts him off. “So, Mikey and I are seeing a lot of each other.”

“Dating.”

“Dating,” Pete guesses he’s agreeing, though he’s not sure he’d call it that. Mikey and he sit on couches and talk about movies and video games and comic books and what to do in the face of an alien invasion. They play video games and twenty questions and they played two rounds of ‘I never’ before Mikey took the bottle from Pete and said, ‘The rumors are true about Jersey’. Pete told her he didn’t get it and she smiled that enigmatic Mikey Way smile and kissed his cheek. “I mean. I guess?”

“Well, whatever it is, you’re doing it.” Gerard frowns and lights another cigarette as Pete realizes they’re still standing near the edge of the stage and getting glared at by half the techs who are trying to work around them.

Pete grabs Gerard’s arm and steers him toward the buses and trailers and tents. The smell of stale sweat wafts between them and Pete releases him as soon as possible. “You’re not pulling some older brother bullshit and telling me I can’t see her, right? Because I won’t, and also, Mikey would kick your ass.”

Gerard squints at Pete, his brow furrowed in confusion and, apparently, concern. “You kind of have esteem issues.”

Pete doesn’t kill himself, though being told he has low self-esteem by a self-proclaimed mole person has to be a life low point. “So, you know.” Pete’s voice loses steam. “If that’s your…I don’t know…plan.”

“Mikey likes you. And I’m not a douche.”

It’s worth arguing, but Pete lets it go, not entirely sure someone won’t just pop up and accuse him of being the pot. Or the kettle or a cast-iron skillet. “So what are we talking about exactly?”

“Oh. If you break her heart, I’ll break your kneecaps and leave you in a dark alley to be eaten alive by rats.”

“I’m sorry. You’ll…what?”

Gerard looks at him, eyes the same clear bright greenish-brown of Mikey’s. “I will find an unusual, painful and completely untraceable way for you to die. I already have a list started.”

“You’re kind of bug-fuck insane, aren’t you?”

Gerard shrugs. “She’s my sister.”

“We haven’t even _kissed_ yet.”

Gerard smiles and Pete’s glad of the hoodie he’s wearing as protection, because he’s relatively certain Gerard might go for his throat. “And if you’re really smart, I’ll never find out that you do.”

**

Mikey’s sitting in the shadow of Pete’s bus when he makes it back. It took him nearly an hour after leaving Gerard’s creepy serial killer smile behind to find it, since he kept taking wrong turns between the trailers. Mikey looks up from her copy of _Infinite Crisis_ and raises her eyebrow. “Don’t listen to Gerard.”

“Are you guys sure he’s human?”

“Only to the level of available standardized testing.”

“That’s amazingly…not reassuring.” Pete sinks down next to her, burrowing down in his hoodie. “He threatened me.”

“I know.” Mike reaches over and slides her hand in the pocket of his hoodie, tangling her fingers with his. “Don’t listen to Gerard.”

Pete glances down to the bump in their pocket that is their hands. “You won’t actually let him dip me in honey, choke me with cotton candy and feed me to rabid Chihuahuas, will you?”

“It’d be pretty hard to find enough rabid Chihuahuas, so probably not.” She lets go of Pete’s hand. “Though now I want cotton candy.”

“What color?”

“Let’s see if we can find green today.” Mikey gets up and brushes gravel off her ass, which Pete can’t help but watch. She arches her eyebrow as he blushes and scrambles to his feet. When he looks up, Mikey’s smiling at him. “We can pretend we’re zombies and that it’s brains.”

“Sweet.” Pete nods in agreement.

“And then we can go back to your bunk and I’ll blow you.”

Pete can feel his eyes widen almost painfully. “Um…we could…um…maybe like, make out first.”

Mikey frowns and then smiles in understanding. “I get it. You’re old fashioned. That’s really cute.”

**

Pete’s had a lot of girlfriends. Or the same girlfriend a lot of times. Or both. In fact, he’s pretty well-versed in the whole ‘what to do with a girl’ game. He’s got decent moves and he’s pretty sure no one’s ever faked with him, and he’s more than willing to get his hands and face dirty in the pursuit of things.

The thing is that Mikey’s different. She’s one of the guys more than she’s a girl, but she’s _definitely_ a girl. He can tell that when she presses up against him, nipples hard beneath her Anthrax t-shirt, rubbing against him, straddling his thigh and _grinding_ , and the hot smell of how wet she is and the soft, low moans she makes when he presses his fingers against the seam of her jeans and rubs.

The thing is that he likes her. A lot. Likes her in the way that he wants to just lie beside her and kiss her and talk to her about things. Everything. And he really, really wants to fuck her. He just can’t seem to do it. He knows she notices, just like she notices that he’s hard pretty much all the time when he’s around her. He knows she wonders, but she doesn’t ask him about it at all. He gets her off all the time, and she’s jerked him and sucked him enough that fucking her shouldn’t actually be an issue, but any time he even thinks about it, he feels a cold sweat creep along his skin.

“It’s Gerard.”

“What?” They’re lying in Pete’s bunk, facing each other, both of them drunk on kissing. He thinks they’ve been kissing for days, but he’s pretty sure someone would have made one of them come play a set if that were the case. Probably not Patrick, because he’d probably rather Dirty filled in for him, but one of the guys from My Chem would have come hunting for Mikey.

“The thing. In your brain. It’s Gerard.”

“I’m not thinking about Gerard. In fact, it’s safe to say that I never think about Gerard.”

“I didn’t say you were thinking _about_ him. I said he was the thing in your brain.”

“Like a tumor?”

“Like a voice. Telling you not to fuck me. If it helps at all, he’d probably be just as homicidal if he knew you’d eaten me out or that I’d sucked your cock.”

“Can we not talk about those things in conjunction with your brother? Ever?”

Mikey rolls Pete over and straddles him, an impressive feat given her long, gangly limbs and the limited space in the bunk. She’s wearing nothing but panties and a bra that’s seen much better days and Pete’s hands go automatically to her hips. She’s seated directly over his dick, and heat seeps through his boxer-briefs. He has to close his eyes for a second, just feel her. “Mikes…”

“Gerard is the least of your problems.” She rolls her hips and the friction and heat intensify.

“Seriously. No more mentioning your brother.”

“Because if you _don’t_ fuck me, _I’m_ going to kill you.”

He catches her wrists and curls his fingers around them. Mikey stops for a moment, eyes caught on Pete’s as he squeezes just a bit. “It matters. You matter.”

“So you can’t have fuck me?”

“I just…” Pete sighs, wishing he had the words. “I want it to be right. Special.”

“Oh my god.” Mikey moves off of him and out of the bunk, tugging on her clothes and ignoring the glances from the front lounge. The guys have been really good about not noticing Mikey when she’s naked or nearly naked. Pete owes them for that. “If you so much as say the words ‘make love’, I am going to gut you like a fish.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were. You were going there. I cannot believe you. You son of a bitch.” She doesn’t bother doing up her jeans as she shoves her feet into her shoes. “Don’t you dare pull fucking stereotypical bullshit on me, Wentz. I’m more of a guy than you are half the time.”

“Most of the time,” comes from the lounge, but Pete’s not listening close enough to catch who says it for later punishment. He’ll just take revenge on them all. He’s too busy looking at Mikey, confused.

“I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you.” She tugs on a shirt that Pete’s fairly certain is Andy’s. Oh well.

“So why don’t you want it to be special? Good?” She looks at him, and Pete can actually _see_ the frustration and anger on her face. It’s kind of frightening when she loses her cool enough to let go. “Mikey?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” She turns and leaves the bus, and Pete’s confused, not even sure what just happened. He tugs the curtain on his bunk closed and pulls his beanie over his eyes, wishing he had earplugs so he could ignore his band completely.

**

They don’t talk for two days, which is the longest they’ve gone without being around each other the entire tour. Pete is well past his own breaking point when Patrick reaches his, shoving him out of the bus to go talk to her. He starts to go back for his bass when Patrick reminds him he’s not John Cusack, so he needs to not even think what he’s thinking. He turns around and heads for the My Chem bus, worried that _Patrick_ knows what he’s thinking. He stands outside the bus for a few minutes and then sighs.

“Mikey!” He’s not sure she can hear him, but he’s grown up on movies, so he chooses to hope for the best. “Mikey! I’m sorry I wanted it to be special. I’m sorry I had the audacity to presume that wanting it to be good was a reason to wait. I’m sorry that I…” He cuts off when Mikey appears in the open bus door.

“Stop shouting.”

“I wanted you to hear me.”

“Yeah, well now the entire tour has heard you. Also, the bus door and windows were open. Jesus. Get in here.”

He follows her in, grandly ignoring Frank, who is curled up on the floor, choking with laughter, and Ray and Bob who are steadfastly playing a video game and trying not to lose it. Gerard glares at him like he might come over the table, but Mikey gives him a warning look, and apparently that’s enough. They don’t spend a lot of time on Mikey’s bus for just this reason, but she drags Pete back to her bunk and raises her eyebrow at him until he scrambles in. She follows, leaving the curtain open and letting her legs hang over the side.

“I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry. I didn’t know that wanting it to be special was bad. I didn’t realize that…it’s just that every other girl I’ve…um…” The looks she gives him is _very clearly_ one that means ‘do not talk about other girls’, so Pete just shrugs. “I really like you.”

“I really like you too.”

“And I just…I wanted our first time to be…”

“Pete.” Mikey sighs and slumps against the wall, turning her head to look at him. “I’m not mad that you wanted it to be nice or special. I’m not.”

“You seem really mad.”

She sighs again and takes his hand, threading their fingers together. “I’m not mad that you wanted it to be special. I’m mad that you thought we had to _make_ it special. That…that just the fact that it’s us doesn’t make it special.”

“It does. It totally does!” He sits up straighter and looks at her. “It does, Mikey. You’re…we’re…you’re not like anything or anyone else. You’re amazing. I’m just really bad at all of this.”

“No, you’re not.” Mikey leans in and kisses him softly. “Just moderately bad.”

**

Pete thinks everything’s going to be okay then, and he’s pretty sure that the next time they have some privacy that they’re going to fuck. It’s a kind of pressure that makes him giddy and nervous all at once, and he loves that Mikey’s feeling the same way, even though she doesn’t show it like everyone else. He can see it in the lines of her body and the way she cants her hip against his when they’re in a crowd. Of course, that’s before someone breaks out the Super Soakers.

He’s in his underwear, just like the rest of his band, and My Chem shows up dressed in black jeans and t-shirts and showing the least amount of skin humanly possible. Patrick is informing them that they may be missing the point of the game when Mikey blasts Pete right in the crotch with fucking ice cold water from her gun. “Holy…fucking shit. You’re a dead man, Way.”

“That’s the problem right there,” Frank informs Mikey in a stage whisper as Mikey tries to suppress her laughter. “He thinks you’re a _man_.”

Pete’s blast hits Frank right in the face and suddenly it’s a free-for-all. Mikey takes off, laughing out loud, and Pete follows her, dodging Frank’s miniature vengeance by ducking behind Mike Carden when TAI shows up and joins the fray. Mike will pay him back later, but for the moment it’s worth it for the ground he gains on Mikey.

She can easily outrun him just on sheer leg-length alone, but she’s also a smoker and less manic than he is, and he’s got years of soccer on his side. But even with that, he’s pretty sure she’s not trying very hard, because he catches her just off the tarmac where the buses are parked behind the concrete pylons. He tackles her to the ground then straddles her, aiming his gun directly at her face. “You’re mine now, Way.”

“Been yours for a while, Wentz. Not my fault you haven’t noticed.”

That hits him in the gut, then slides down to his groin and he has to kiss her. It’s back tactics, and he’d get shit from Andy if he saw it, but right now it’s just him and Mikey and she tastes perfect. That doesn’t stop him from breaking the kiss and blasting her with his Soaker, spraying her black Misfits shirt and half her face with water.

“Son of a…” She’s sputtering and laughing, but it dies when he bends down and takes a nipple in his mouth, through the fabric of her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra and he can feel her responding, skin hardening, breath catching. “P-Pete.”

He shakes his head slightly, not enough to break contact and flicks his tongue against her. Mikey arches up, head digging into the grass as she grabs his hips. He moans against her, sucking the water out of her shirt, tasting sweat and salt and dust, and it’s far too easy for his hands to slide under the fabric and push it up until all he tastes is her.

“Pete. Fuck. Pete.” She shudders and her hands fist in his shirt before she shoves him away, shaking as she gets to her feet. “Whose bus?”

“Mine.” Pete stands up and takes her hand, tugging her back to the bus, trying to figure out how much time they have before the rest of the band is soaked and trudges on board to change. Knowing Andy’s survival skills, they’ve got some time. “I have a present for you.”

“I don’t care how good you are at sex, your dick is not a present.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Pete laughs as he keys in the bus combination. “I’m not that much of an egotist.”

“Yes, you are,” she informs him dryly, pinching his ass as she walks by to climb the steps. “But there better be a real present.”

“There is.”

“Good.” She catches his hand and leads him back to the bunk. “Gimme.”  



End file.
